The Bad Boy of Mine

Chapter 25 ll Either it can chisel granite, or cut off my limbs.

"Psssst."

Jacob glances at me weirdly, over his shoulder. Before I can speak, he turns his head back to face the board.

"Pssssssssssssssst."

Jacob regards me, glaring.

"What?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Uh huh? Talk."

"Where is Chris?"

I spot a flicker of hesitation in Jacob's eyes.

"I don't know?"

"What do you mean you don't know? You guys spend most of your time together."

"Zoey, just because we are really good friends, doesn't mean that we don't give each other privacy and time to himself. Chris is probably busy with something. You're my good friend too, do you see me following you wherever you go?"

"Jacob, that's not what I'm trying to imply. I'm just asking where Chris has been."

"I know that. I wish I know where he is too."

"He hasn't contacted you?"

"I told you, I don't follow him around 24/7. If there isn't any problem, he wouldn't contact me."

"Sorry for asking, I was just worried."

Jacob's solemn demeanor shifts, his face softens.

"It's alright. I'm sure Chris will be back soon, and he'll be hotter than ever for you," Jacob snickers while smirking.

I blush, "Shhh, pay attention to the teacher."

-

It has been Day 4 since Chris went MIA on everyone. If I told you I wasn't worried as hell, I'd be lying like Pinocchio.

It makes feel even more suspicious of the boys, when they just roam around the school like one of their best friends is not missing. I tried to hoodwink Seth into talking to me, but he also gives me a whole talk about them being good friends, but they give one another privacy still. So, apparently, they have been discussing this amongst themselves and I'm positive that I'll be fed with all those privacy bullshit again if I approach any of them again.

It's beginning to piss me off. I hate them being so secretive to me. How can they do this! I mean, I'm a good friend to them, right? Good friends trust one another, right? They don't hide secrets, right?

But you're hiding your damn sob story from them. Looks like the pot's calling the kettle black.

I sink into my seat, sighing. My frustration with the boys dissipates. I'm in no position to meddle with Chris' life.

But my worry and anxiety for Chris' well-being continues to gnaw at me.

I change out of my shirt and jeans, slipping on a camisole and shorts. I always sleep well with these since I will have more of my skin in contact with the extremely soft comforter. I just love the feeling of the fabric against my body, as weird as that sounds.

I slip under the cover and sigh in contentment. My eyes shut and my mind drifts.

Suddenly, a loud screeching sound pierces through the air.

My eyes shoot open and I hop out of bed. Could it be Chris?

Sure enough, I see Chris stumbling off his bike. His movements are graceless, lacking coordination. He trudges to his door unsteadily, then fumbles around with his pockets and fishes out the keys. He unlocks the door and disappears into the house.